


Black Market

by EffingEden



Category: Blackadder
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/EffingEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackadder has a craving for something sweet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Market

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariana_oconnor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariana_oconnor/gifts).



> Comment_fic prompt, 'Blackadder; Baldrick; Turnip flavoured sweets'

“Ah, excellent, is this what I think it is, Baldric?” Captain Blackadder asked eagerly as he ducked into the damp hovel.

The mud-smudged Private looked from Blackadder to the table, where sat a rather misshapen package. “Oh yeah, it is. If what you think it is is a, ah, _special delivery_.” He winked and tapped the side of his nose while Blackadder’s face distorted in brief annoyance.

“Yes, a rather expensive special delivery if I remember correctly.” He started tugging at the string binding the brown paper together, patting his pockets in search of a knife.

“If my uncle wasn’t on the Black Market, we’d have to pay triple that, Captain B. Consider yourself lucky you are so well connected.”

“Yes,” Blackadder drawled, sawing through the string. “Oh yes. ‘Lucky’ is what most people feel when they are told to look after a dog that won’t stop rolling in cow excrement – and then finding in one such deposit the poor drowned body of a lepricorn and its subsequent pot of gold.” At the end of the statement, he gave a cry of glee as the stings fell away.

He pulled off the paper and found – “Baldric. It’s… a turnip.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I spent two months of my wages on a turnip?”

“Not just any turnip. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Baldric held the body of the vegetable in one hand and grasped the wilted leaves on top and pulled. The leaves and a chunk of turnip came away, revealing a hollow space within. And there, in the carved gap, were a collection of hard boiled sweets of two different colours, all gleaming like jewels.

“Oh, my word.” Blackadder took the turnip and tipped the sweets out, then picked a red one up and put it in his mouth. Baldric watched the blissful expression change to blank confusion then violent distaste. Blackadder curled in on himself as if he was going to be sick, his hand going to his mouth to pull out the sweet.

“Baldric. They taste like – like a mouse has urinated on a piece of tripe, which has then been allowed to ferment and decorated with the moist leavings of a stoat.”

“I know. Nice, ain’t they? I prefer the yellows, though.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Original.”

Blackadder squinted at the sweets and picked one of the yellows up, and said, “Baldric, it’s just a piece of raw turnip carved into a lozenge.”

“Ah, I was wondering what my uncle’s secret was. He’d never tell me!”


End file.
